


We will always have Paris

by Applesith



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Absinthe, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clueless Ben Solo, Explicit Consent, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Foreplay, Illustrated, Loss of Virginity, Not so clueless in bed, Paris (City), Parisian AU, Playlist, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rey tries really hard to send signals, Romance, Slow Burn, With pictures, florn (fluff + porn)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-07 23:37:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7734184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Applesith/pseuds/Applesith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben Solo is an American writer who moved to Paris to follow the steps of his favorite nineteenth author. Rey is an English student who just came to have a good time in the French capital and desperately needs a place to sleep tonight.<br/>-----------------------------------------------------</p><p>My way to say "Paris, I love you" as a Parisian and a Reylo shipper. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vert d'absinthe

**Author's Note:**

> Below are the prompts that inspired this story :) Hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
>    
> GOOD, TAKE INNOCENT KYLO WHO IS OBLIVIOUS TO ANY INNUENDOS BUT SOMEHOW IS A VERY THOROUGH AND ENTHUSIASTIC LOVER HE DOES 360 CHANGE WHEN HE ACTUALLY GET DOWN AND DIRTY OMF
> 
> Pls write about rey somehow ended up sitting on kylos lap and kylo being oblivious and unknowing on how to handle this situation

Ben Solo springs from the fold-down seat as soon as the metro pulls into the Ménilmontant station. As usual, he’s prepared to engage in a battle of will with the Metropolitan dunces, those idiots who could never grasp the concept of public transport, who obstinately try to get into the car before all passengers disembark.

Force, he hates going out on a Friday, or any day of the week for that matter! But Phasma somehow convinced him to attend a farewell party at La Cantada, one of their usual hangouts. She’s leaving Paris next week, and unless Ben decides to set foot on US soil again, they won’t see each other for a while.

Ben moved from a small town called Resistance in Arizona to the city of lights about six years ago. When he left, his uncle, Luke, had argued that he was running from his problems. What does an eccentric artist who lives like a hobo while sitting on millions of dollars in the bank know? The truth is that he left to take a French literature class at l’université Paris-Sorbonne and extended his stay indefinitely because of the convenient distance separating him from his parents, a wealthy and stereotypically dysfunctional couple who built their fortune in the real estate business.

Ben likes the Parisian life too much to go back to his hometown anyway. For the first time, he feels like he’s not the biggest asshole around. It’s a refreshing change. After growing up in a city where his sharp tongue and deadpan humor were only met with side eye glares and homophobic nicknames, he eventually lost his temper at seventeen and punched the football team captain until his face resembled something out of Picasso’s cubist period. Small towns don’t forget.

Here, at least he’s just an American who owns too many black clothes and hangs out with a bunch of misfits.

Sure enough, as soon as he enters the bar, he’s greeted by Phasma’s drunken cheer.

“Ben! Come sit here!” she shouts, pointing at the chair she ordered Hux, her roommate-slash-friend-with-benefits, to vacate, forcing him to stand up stiff as a lamp post.

Under any other circumstances, Ben would protest and ask the cold and unfriendly ginger to sit back down, but it’s not like he doesn’t know how the couple-who-is-not-a-couple spend their spare time. After all, Phasma doesn’t hide that she’s working as a Dominatrix or how they met at a fetish party in Les caves Saint-Sabin. Ben can’t make heads or tails of their relationship, but he’s not one to judge so he simply takes the seat and mumbles something resembling “hi.” Next to him is a girl he hadn’t met. Knowing the tall blond woman, something tells him it’s no coincidence. She’s pretty enough, with jet black hair and lots of piercings but he glares at Phasma when she introduces them.

“Ben this is Marie. Marie, this is Ben.”

Damn woman! She knows he’s not after a hook-up. On top of that, it only takes three words from the native to know he’s not interested. A pierced tongue doesn’t make up for her feeble mind and _mein goth_ , that girl is thick (in his humble opinion).

This is going to be a long night.

“I’m going for a smoke. Want to keep me company?” Marie whispers in his ear after two beers and extended periods of awkward silence.

“Not really,” Ben responds.

“Ah ha, you’re so funny!” she chuckles, oblivious to the fact he’s actually dead serious.

“Ben!” Phasma scolds him. “Be a good boy. Go outside.”

“Fine,” he sighs with the air of a death row inmate waiting for a call from the governor that will never come.

At least the weather is beautiful tonight.

He refuses the cigarette she extracts from her new packet and stands there fidgeting with his hands buried in his pockets, pretending to listen to her babbling while looking for an escape route.

That’s when he notices a girl storming out of the café on the corner with a tall chubby guy on her tail. Ben freezes when the pursuer grabs her wrist and tries to stop her.

“Rey! Come back! Where are you going?” the man asks in English, visibly unnerved.

“Don’t touch me, Plutt!” she shoots back with a sharper British accent, trying to pull herself from his grasp. “I’m not going anywhere with you! Creep!”

Usually, Ben doesn’t interfere in lovers’ quarrels, but his instincts tell him that these two are not even friends. Also, he desperately needs to escape, so he rushes headlong toward them, leaving Marie with her cigarette mid-sentence.

“Hey! Leave her alone!” he bellows.

The man turns his shaved head in his direction, his fat fingers still locked on the wrist of the young woman. “Who the fuck are you, weirdo? Go back to the Batcave!”

He looks like one of these former rugby players whose layer of muscles melted down like an ice cream left in the sun. Ben wouldn’t mind fighting him. After all, a bleeding nose is a valid excuse for leaving a party.

He’s about to get involved when the girl does something unexpected. In a graceful yet powerful move, she spins, and her attacker is suddenly lying flat on the ground unconscious. Ben has no idea how she managed to do that with her stick-like arms, but he’s slightly in awe.

“You’re American?” she asks, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“I am.”

“Are you staying in a hotel?”

Ben’s brow furrows. “No, I’m living here.”

“Oh.“ She looks disappointed. “Do you know any cheap hotels I could book at this time of night? I was supposed to stay at his place.”

“Sorry. I can’t think of anything,” he replies without actually giving much thought to the question. Who does she believe he is? A fucking tour guide?

“No worries. I’ll find something. Thanks anyway.”

Without another word exchanged, she grabs her bag and walks away.

“You’re welcome,” Ben mutters while glancing at the guy lying on the pavement.

His lack of eloquence when talking with the opposite sex shames the literature major in him, but social interactions had never been his strong point, and since he’s also not a doctor, there’s no point checking if the big guy is still breathing.

Then he remembers.

“Wait!” he shouts, jogging after her. “My friends might be able to help. They have a spare bedroom.”

The girl turns around, looking mildly interested by the prospect of not having to sleep on the street. “Can I meet those friends of yours before I decide to follow some strangers to their apartment in a foreign city? You’ll understand I have to be prudent.”

“Sure,” he agrees. “Although they probably have more to fear from you than you are of them. You seem more than capable of handling yourself.” The crystalline laugh that escapes her lips encourages him to continue. “To be honest, they’re a pair of weirdos. But nice. Sort of.”

“Like you?” she retorts with a glint in her hazel eyes.

Before he can protest and insist that he’s a grade-A tool in comparison, his phone vibrates.

It’s a text from Phasma:

> “You’re an ass. We left. Talk to you on Skype you antisocial piece of shit. Luv U.”

“Merde. They left, the bastards.”

The girl, Rey, is still smiling. He isn’t sure why since her possible sleeping arrangement fell flat.

“I could do with a drink.” She winks but at his returned silence, she makes the invitation clearer. “Care to join me?”

Generally he would refuse and leave, but he’s intrigued by this English girl who knows karaté and sounds like she could hold a decent conversation.

“Why not?”

When they head back into La Cantada all the tables are occupied, only the seats at the counter empty.

“Interesting decor,” Rey comments while gawking at the paintings of the seven deadly sins hanging on the red walls. “And music too.”

Tonight’s playlist alternates between 80’s new wave and classic metal with She lost control by Joy Division blasting from the nearby speakers.

“Yeah, it’s not bad. They have the best selection of absinthe and medieval liqueur in the capital too.”

The girl beams up, her eyes boring into his. “Good. I’m feeling adventurous tonight. I’m Rey by the way since we haven’t been properly introduced.”

“Ben.”

“So,” she starts after ordering a glass of Blanchette, a brand of Absinthe the bartender recommended, in fluent French. “I know it’s an annoying question, but what is an American like yourself doing in Paris?”

“I’m writing a book.”

Her face lights up at the information. “Interesting! What about?”

And not surprisingly, this is Ben’s most dreaded question. He isn’t sure why he even bothers since his interlocutors always end up staring at him like he grew a third eye on his forehead, but he tells her anyway.

“It’s a biography on Lautréamont.”

“Oh, you mean Isidore Ducasse?” Rey shoots back like it’s a fact.

Ben is so surprised he almost falls from the stool. “You read The Songs of Maldoror?” he squeaks.

“Yes, when I was fifteen. By the way, I don’t know how you prepare that drink,” she says, gesturing at the intricate drink that the bartender placed moments earlier. Sitting on the counter is an ornate fountain with four small brass taps, two tall glasses containing a dose of an odorant clear green liquid, and two sugar cubes sitting in two spoons with a delicate leaf lattice design.

“I can teach you.”

Usually, he’s not one to bother sharing his knowledge, but since Rey earned his respect by naming his favorite author by his birth name, he’s ready to make an exception and demonstrate the ritual of drinking absinthe like an educated person.

“First, you place the spoon on top of the glass like this. Then, you put the sugar cube on said spoon before moving the glass under the tap and waiting. The steady drizzle of icy water dissolves the sugar, revealing the subtle aroma. In other words, the secret to its greatness is to take your time,” he finally declares earnestly, to which Rey flashes a wide grin.

“I like your way of thinking.”

“Thanks. I guess.” He’s not used to people agreeing with him, so he tries to change the topic. “So Rey, what are you doing in Paris?”

“Oh, I’m just here for a week of vacation before heading back to England. I’m from a village you’ve probably never heard of.”

“Try me.”

Her roguish expression suggests there’s no chance in hell he’ll know the place.

“Jakku-on-Thames.”

He snorts at the name. “Fine, you win. Never heard of it,” he admits.

“I guessed as much. There’s one pub and a duck pond, and that’s the extent of its local attractions.”

“Sounds fascinating.”

“Not as much as you,” Rey utters under her breath, too quiet for Ben to notice.

“Here. It’s ready. Just use the spoon to dissolve the last particles of sugar, and you’re on your way to make the acquaintance of the green fairy.”

“To pleasant and unexpected introductions then!” Rey toasts before taking a sip.

“That’s really good!” she marvels. “Nothing like the crap I had in Spain.”

It’s Ben’s turn to look happy. It’s been awhile since he’s met someone he can speak to so carefreely. “I was thinking, maybe you can stay at my place tonight, and we’ll look for a hotel tomorrow.”

“That’s a very generous offer. I don’t want to intrude, though!”

“It’s fine. But you’re going to be disappointed if you think all Parisian apartments look like the palace of Versailles. I basically live in an attic room.”

“Oh. Will we have to share a bed then?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

She looks slightly disappointed by that remark, but it doesn’t take long before she changes the subject. For once, Ben is captivated. Despite her young age – she revealed she’s twenty – he’s impressed by her erudition and maturity. ‘If only a girl like her could be interested in a guy like him,’ he laments internally.

“Fuck, what time is it?” He suddenly exclaims, diving into his back pocket to retrieve his phone. “Merde. We need to leave if we want to catch the last metro.”

It’s the first time in eons he doesn’t want to leave a bar.

As they run, zigzagging to avoid packs of drunk hipsters in Rue Oberkampf, Rey’s clear laugh warms Ben’s soul. 

Once they finally reach the station and run down the stairs, jumping into the first car before the departure signal buzzes off, he’s not sure if his heart is racing because of the physical effort or because he’s slightly in love despite knowing he has no chance. They’re both hanging off the central pole panting and chuckling, trying to catch their breath“Over there.” Ben points as he spots the last free fold-down seat at the back of the car. “Sit down,” he orders.

“No, I’m fine. I can stand if you’re standing. I don’t want to crane my neck to talk to you anyways. You’re too tall,” she says in jest.

“But you’re out of breath. And it’s a matter of pride to claim the one remaining free seat on the metro!” he declares, like it’s a fact of life.

Rey’s smile widens even further. “You know what? Why don’t you sit down and I’ll sit on your lap then.”

“This is acceptable. As long as we occupy the seat.” A middle-aged man shoots at Ben a knowing look to which Ben only shrugs in response. Weirdos are aplenty at this time of night.

They sit in silence for the duration of the short journey, content to enjoy the night scenery. 

When they approach the station Anvers, Ben is as relieved as he is crushed to see Rey off his lap. He didn’t notice before, but she smells incredible, and he had to refrain himself from burying his face in the crook of her neck several times. No doubt he would end up lying on the pavement like Plutt if he didn’t keep his hands to himself.

"Nice view,” she comments when they reach the end of Rue de Steinkerque. Right in front of them is the imposing silhouette of the Basilique du Sacré-Coeur sitting up the hill.

“You get used to it,” he replies, a little blasé. “Also, I’m not living in the nicest area. It’s messy and smelly, but it’s home.“

"I see. The glass is always half empty with you,” she grins.

“Such insolence coming from you, young lady! I might have to teach you some manners.”

“Oh, I’m sure I have a lot to learn,” Rey quips.

On their way to the Rue du Chevalier de la Barre, Rey stops a few times to document interesting graffiti and monuments. As she explained earlier, she could see the Eiffel tower on TV at any time, but you can never really have a taste of the city until you’ve seen its street art.

Reaching his apartment, Ben quickly keys in the entry code, and the door slides open with a buzz. “I hope your cardio is good. There’s no elevator and my apartment is on the top floor, just under the roof.”

“I’m okay with you carrying me bridal style if I give up mid-way.”

“In your dreams missy! Now save your breath for the climb!”

“Sir, yes sir!” Rey salutes mockingly, a gesture Ben finds strangely arousing. Suddenly, he hopes that his mind will flush away any inappropriate images before they reach the next landing.

"Holy Moley!” Rey gasps when they finally reach the landing. “You climb that every day?!”

“Now you understand why I don’t go out much.” He laughs while fighting with the three locks on his door.

“Don’t be modest. I’m sure you have an eight-pack,” Rey slips hoping he’ll take the bait this time. But her innuendos are lost to him once more.

“Home sweet home!” he announces, gesturing her inside.

He didn’t lie about the apartment being under the roof. It’s a tiny one-room flat, equipped with the bare minimum. There’s a kitchen area that’s comprised of a sink, two pans hanging on a rack and one single burner. There are dozens of books scattered all over the floor with a red sofa-bed in the corner, next to an open laptop sitting on a cardboard box.

“So this is where you fancy yourself a poète maudit, is it?”

“Such a sharp tongue, I see.”

A lopsided grin appears on her lips, but Rey refrains commenting about her tongue.

Now that they’re in the apartment, Ben feels self-conscious, watching Rey peruse his volumes of poetry and books about dead painters. He wonders if he should play some music or offer her a coffee or any of these things people with better social skills than him do when they have a guest.

“Oh. You want to see something cool?” he suddenly asks, catching her attention.

“Sure!”

He grabs the only chair lying around to use as a stepladder and opens the skylight, leaving Rey with a frown on her face.

“Let me give you a leg up,” he says. “But don’t get too close to the edge!” he shouts as she’s halfway onto the roof. After that, it takes almost no effort to pull himself up to join her.

She turns to him with the sweetest smile he’s ever seen. “I’m glad my host was an asshole. This view is amazing.”

“Well, it’s not the best angle since I can’t afford a room with a view on the front…”

“Shh. I think it’s perfect,” she comments while taking a few pictures for her Instagram. “I’ll put the caption The Sacré-Coeur looks like a fucking majestic ship afloat a zinc-colored ocean of roofs.”

She really is the girl of his dreams, he realizes.

"Ben, can I ask you a question?”

“You can, but I might not answer,” he jokes.

"Are you gay?”

His eyebrows disappear into his hairline. So this is what she’s thinking? Although he can’t really blame her since it’s a mistake, many have made before, including himself. He could explain that he once let Poe Dameron suck him behind the school grounds, but it sounds like an unnecessary digression. Who would have thought that the team’s punter was in the closet and more than happy to reward the geek who gave the captain a black eye?

“No.”

“Oh.” She almost sounds disappointed. “So, you just don’t like me?” she manages to mumble.

“What? Why would you say that? You’re fucking amazing!” He’s shocked that she doesn’t know it herself. “Of course I like you. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re that girl from Weird Science – if she was created by a Ph.D. in comparative literature.”

It’s her turn to look at him in disbelief. “Then why don’t you try to kiss me?”

“You want me to?” He asks prudently.

“Are you serious, dummy?” she laughs. “Yes, I do. I’ve never been hinting so much in my entire–”

Before she can finish her sentence, Ben’s mouth is on hers. It’s not a gentle or tender kiss, but eager and passionate, rough and demanding. She doesn’t break free but gives in with the same level of passion, sucking on his bottom lip before slipping her velvety tongue into his mouth. Their kiss tastes of anise.

"Why would you even be interested in a guy like me?” he rasps, breaking apart only slightly.

“I can think of many reasons,” she replies in kind, hand feeling him through the rough material of his black jeans. He’s already hard, and he needs to muster all the self-restraint in the world to not undress her right there on that sloping roof.

“Come here,” he murmurs while putting her hands around his neck, lifting her back to the skylight.

Rey whimpers when he lowers her back inside the room, but she’s back in his warm embrace in no time. The couch creaks beneath their weight, and they start giggling and kissing like two teenagers.

 

To be continued...

 


	2. Sur les toits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you to my amazing betas: Politicalmamaduck and Kuresoto. They are the reason why you don't have to endure my messy 'Frenglish'.
> 
> No picture this time but I added a playlist at the end of each chapter. I'll leave the action to your imagination. ;)

 

Rey wriggles under Ben’s large frame, incapable of containing her chortles as he lays gentle kisses all over her face, his fingers digging into her scalp. It’s an understatement to say that her trip took an unexpected, yet pleasant turn. He’s heavy on her, pinning her deeper inside the soft mattress every time his chest slams against hers. She loves it. Never before in her life has she wanted someone so badly.

“I wasn’t planning on meeting anyone,” she moans in the crook of his neck while letting her fingers slide under his t-shirt to feel his warm, smooth skin. “But I’m glad I met you, _Ben_.”

Is it the way his name escaped her parted lips in a hot breath or the way she daintily strokes invisible patterns along the muscles of his back that make both his heart and cock jolt? “I didn’t plan on falling in love,” he lets slip in a quiet voice in the shell of her ear.

Both stiffen as the meaning of the words he just said sink between them, and Ben suddenly yanks off Rey, dropping on the floor with the air of a teenage boy caught masturbating to My Little Pony.

“I’m sorry!” He blurts out, scrambling on his knees “I didn’t mean it.”

Confounded by his reaction, Rey sits up on the couch, hands lying at her sides, her face unreadable.

“I mean, I _meant_ it. But not in _that_ way,” he tries to clarify. His cheeks and ears are flushed red, his body shrinking away from her.

He continues. “It’s just that I’m not the kind of guy who sleeps around, okay? It doesn’t mean I’m asking you to fly to Las Vegas tomorrow. I mean, I have to _feel_ something for the person I’m sleeping with, that’s all. And you’re fucking perfect. So yeah, I _love you_ for lack of better word.”

As Rey continue studying him in silence, looking for the right words, Ben leaps to his feet, retreating into the kitchen. Force, what would he give at this moment to be able to afford more than twelve square meters.

“You know what? Let’s forget about it,” he announces, his back turned to her, opening a small cupboard above the sink.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to throw you out. You can still sleep here, and I’ll just stay on the floor.”

He doesn't wait for an answer.

“You want an espresso? I can make one. If you want,” he rambles, trying to hide his mortification.

From a shelf he extracts an Italian coffee maker, followed by a tin box she suspects contains ground coffee. Before he can open the lid, Rey dashes across the room to throw her arms around him.

“It’s alright. I was just a little surprised. I’m not used to guys who don’t just want to jump me,” she explains.

“I know what you mean. I feel it too,” she adds in a softly spoken voice, tightening her embrace and burying her face between his shoulders.

“I’ve never… You know...” she waffles. “Been completely with anyone before…” she finally breaks. “I thought you would get weird about it if I told you. You’re the first one to speak to me like a person and not just a piece of ass. I like that.”

He puts back the tin box inside the cupboard and crosses his hands on her forearms to reciprocate the hug.

“Well, you have a great ass if that makes you feel better,” he responds in jest, visibly relieved she doesn’t hate him or think he’s a weirdo. His brand of humor must resonate with her because she starts chuckling. It’s the only encouragement he needed to turn around, locking her into a warm embrace before cupping her jaw in his large hands, making her look up. She seems so tiny compared to him, although she’s rather tall for a woman.

“Let me adore you, _Rey_.”

He knows it sounds cheesy, but they’re in Paris, the capital of love. There’s no shame in laying his heart bare and more in front of her. She stays silent, only flashing a lopsided grin before biting her lower lip and nodding her approval.

“There’s just one thing. You’ve noticed that I’m shit at picking up signals, so I have just one request: you need to tell me exactly what you want. I’m not just going to fuck you. This needs to be good for the both of us, okay? Deal?”

The request is so straightforward she’s lost for words. She’s about to nod again, but he cuts in before she can.

“No no, I mean it, Rey. No hum-hum, no fluttering eyes. I need you to say it out loud. I’ll do whatever you want me to do, but you have to tell me. Same if you want me to stop. You don’t have to do anything you're not comfortable doing."

She closes her eyes for a brief instant to hide her embarrassment unless she’s mustering the courage to respond.

“I want you to kiss me,” she says eventually, her glistening hazel eyes boring right into his.

When his lips meet hers, it’s a feather-light kiss this time, gentle and tender. Her heart beats so fast she fears she might drop dead.

“You should go take a shower,” he purrs, running his knuckles on her jaw.

Rey snorts. “Do I smell bad?”

“No!” He shoots back, realizing the clumsiness of his words. “It’s just... nicer? Also, I need to clean up this mess before we can pull out the bed,” he adds gesturing at the floor littered with books.

Rey burst out laughing. “You’re so romantic. Why don’t you join me in the shower?” She teases, throwing her hands over his neck. It’s Ben’s turn to laugh. Effortlessly, as she weighed nothing, he pulls her up with one arm. “I’ll show you why ” he rasps. In three steps they’re standing by a door, she assumed was a closet.

“Enjoy!” He chirps, opening the door to the tiniest bathroom she’s ever seen. There’s a rather pitiful looking ceramic sink, chipped and crusted in the corner, an old-fashioned toilet with a pull-down flush, and a cramped shower cubicle. The aesthetic is decidedly post-war.

“Oh.” She says. “I see. There goes my dream of a hot tub and champagne.”

“Welcome to Paris!” Ben quips, pushing her inside the room and closing the door behind her. “There’s a clean towel on the rack,” she can hear him shouting from the other side.

She had just pulled her T-shirt over her head when she catches her reflection in the stained mirror hanging on the wall. The girl that is looking back at her is standing in a yellow bra, her cheeks flushed, lips locked in a smile, and Rey suddenly wonders if she’s ready. It’s not like she’s never seen or touched a dick before, having experimented a few times with Finn, her best friend from the foster home. It felt safe exploring her body with him rather than letting some dude picked up in a pub take her virginity in the back of a car in a parking lot like most girls she knew from school. Ben is wilder, stranger, his feelings right on his sleeve.

She wants him.

Without further hesitation, she frees her small breasts from her bra, wriggles out of her pair of jeans, and pulls down her underwear, the mirror forgotten.

The shower is small and a little moldy, the glass panel-streaked with lime scale opens with a screeching noise. Instead of a shelf, there’s a plastic basket hanging from the mixer tap, overflowing with shower gel and shampoo bottles.  Rey can’t help but open them one by one to sniff their content. Once her choice is set on “Forest” by Axe, she turns on the shower, enjoying the hot water helping to relax her every muscle.

Vapor escapes the small room, followed by a waft of “fruity yet manly” fragrance when she emerges, a towel wrapped around her. She finds Ben sitting at the edge of the now open bed, engrossed in a book. When he realizes she’s back, he throws the tome away and stands up, grabbing her by the shoulders. For a split second she expects him to throw her on the bed, but instead, he deposits a gentle kiss on her lips.

“I won’t be long,” he croons before locking himself in the bathroom.

“You don’t have to,” she says loud enough. Ben’s amused face appears at the door. “You want the truth, princess?” he asks. “I wasn’t going to until I saw you. You’re too sexy. If I don’t jack off now, I won’t last more than two minutes,” he starts explaining, in a serious voice. “But don’t you dare start without me.” He winks, before closing the door.

'His lack of filter is one of his charms,' Rey reminds herself while she looks for the light switch. The moonbeams splash on the floor through the skylight. She gets rid of the towel and lies down naked on the bed, and buries her face in the pillows, enveloped by his scent.

She might have dozed off for a few minutes because the next thing she knows, Ben is joining her, his broad chest brushing against her back, drops of water falling from his wet hair on her shoulders.

Her heart races as she turns around to face him.

“You’re okay?” he asks in that low voice, unleashing million of butterflies in her stomach. “Better, now that you’re back,” she replies, pulling him closer for a kiss. He smells of the shower gel she liked.

“Tell me what you want,” he inquires. Words are still eluding Rey, the little girl from the foster care system who has always been told what to do, never asked what she wanted. “Touch me,” she replies. If it was an order, it sounded more like a plea.

Ben adjusts himself so he can sit on top of her. That’s when she notices he’s wearing boxer shorts. “Take them off,” she says, voice more steady, pointing at his crotch, but he slaps her hand away gently. The devilish smile he shoots doing so makes her feel weak at the knees.

“Later, Princess. Everything in its own time.”

Without further encouragement he cups her breasts, massaging very deliberately at the base and sides before rubbing his thumbs on her hardened nipples. A sharp breath escapes her lips when his warm tongue meets her smooth skin, laying a series of kisses along her sides. Her slit is so wet already she worries she might be dripping on the mattress. He slips in between her legs, allowing her to test his nascent desire before descending on her tits again, his beautiful mouth engulfing the tip and nipping at the most sensitive parts while letting his finger knead at the edges. She never knew there were so many nerves to be stimulated in that area.

“You enjoy that?” Ben asks with a grin when she starts moaning. “What else do you want me to do? Would you like me to touch you down there?” he adds with a deliberately husky voice.

“That… would be nice,” she manages to reply, shyly. She knows she shouldn’t feel self-conscious at putting words to her desires, but old habits don’t die. Her legs part further under the touch of his fingers running deliberately along the softest spots of her inner thighs. She notices that his hands are incredibly silky despite being so powerful.

“Tell me how you want me to touch you,” he whispers. She grabs at his neck and pulls him closer, planting her eyes into his. “I want to feel you inside me,” she instructs. The grin he flashes sends shivers down her spine as his left-hand holds the nape of her neck, locking them both in this position, the tip of their noses rubbing against each other. Meanwhile, his right-hand flies to her entrance, playing with her coarse hair before sliding one digit very slowly into her slit, despite her neediness.  With a jerk of her hips, she manages to push him further inside, making him chuckle at her eagerness.

“Patience, Princess. The secret to greatness is time.”

“You tease,” she responds, trying to slide her hand in his boxers to give him a taste of his own medicine. He’s faster and manages to block her access with his hand, sticking two fingers right into her cunt. She cries out in surprise, stopping his thrusting as he freezes above her, causing her to moan further in disbelief. “Are you alright? he asks, clearly concerned. “Did I hurt you?”  “No,” she replies, both amused and annoyed. “Don’t stop now.”

“Tell me if it hurts.”

“I will,” she replies, latching onto his bottom lips with her teeth to prevent him from speaking further. Ben welcomes her playful tongue dancing with his, letting her deepen the kiss as he thrusts his fingers inside her once again. He’s delicate at first, making sure to massage her inner walls, but as she gets even more eager, grinding against him, he moves faster, fingers coated with her wetness. “Turn over,” he orders. “I want you to lie on your stomach.” She obeys enthusiastically, not quite sure what his intentions are, but eager to try anything, now that he awakened a beast she didn’t know lived inside her. He lies down on top of her, causing her to gasp under his weight.

“Part your legs further and raise your ass up,” he commands in her ear, voice deep as an ocean. “What?” she asks, high pitched. “No way!” Ben burst out laughing. “It’s not what you think, Rey. Trust me.”

“Promise?” she risks asking.

“Promise,” he repeats with that deep voice. She lifts her hips from the mattress, and he slides his hand beneath her. This time she can feel her engorged bud sticking out slightly. It twitches in anticipation as he places his finger on top of it and starts rubbing in a circle. “Holy shit!” she exclaims. The sensation is so extreme that her toes curl up. “Is it good?” he asks smugly, well aware of her response. Rey’s losing her mind, unable to hold her train of thought. “Faster,” she finally manages to utter.

“Your desire is my command,” he whispers, breath hot on her neck. His large hand is supporting the small of her back while his finger stimulates her clit faster. She can feel her orgasm building up in the pit of her stomach and almost jerks when he introduces his middle finger inside her; the combination of thrusting and grinding send her over the edge in mere seconds after that, and she has to bite at the pillow to muffle her screams as she clenches like never before.

Ben slides off to lie down next to her, his head resting on his arm, searching for her face. Rey is flushed and disheveled, pupils dilated by pleasure. “Was it good?” he inquires with a grin.

“Yes,” she replies candidly. “But what about you?” she asks, feeling guilty that she climaxed without him.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. We’re not done yet,” he teases. “This was just the hors-d’oeuvre,” he adds, pulling her closer to his chest for a hug. “Three-course meals are the norm in France,” he adds, kissing her sweaty brow.

 

(To be continued)

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 will be the last part for real this time (I swear). Don't be shy, do share your comments with me because I really want to know what works and what doesn't.


	3. Sous les toits

“How come you’re such an expert?” Rey ventures after a few minutes of silence, her fingers running along his hairless chest. For an intellectual, he’s certainly well built: chiseled muscles, broad shoulders, supple skin -- a body made to laze on all day. **  
**

“Research,” he responds without hesitation.

She laughs. “Is that a euphemism for saying that you watched a lot of porn?”

“ _Mein goth!_ Such a dirty mind! No, not at all. There are still people who read books, you know?” he retorts, visibly offended. “Let’s say I may or may not have published an erotic version of _Madame Bovary_ ,” he adds, letting the information sink in.

 

Rey cannot contain her amazement. “For real?”

“How do you think I pay the bills for this _château_?” Ben responds wryly. “I’m afraid people don’t care for poor Isidore Ducasse. On the other hand, they seem to enjoy dear Emma being thoroughly fucked by Léon Dupuis in a seedy hotel room, which is basically what Flaubert wrote. I’m just putting modern words on the action, with a pinch of S &M because it’s trendy. I met Phasma and her lapdog Hux while ‘exploring’ the bowels of Paris’ seediest clubs,” he adds, playing with her hair. “She taught me a lot about women.”

“Did you practice a lot then?” She inquires, trying to sound as neutral as possible, but Ben is no fool and raises his head toward her, her meaning well understood.

“Are you asking me if I slept with Phasma?! Are we jealous, Mademoiselle Rey of Jakku-on-Thames?” he asks, mockingly.

“No!” she defends herself. “I’m just curious. That’s all. You said you don’t sleep around yet you’re --” She pauses, looking for the right words. “Very efficient!” she finally burst out.

Ben cannot contain his laughter. “I’ll take that as a compliment then. And perhaps I shall demonstrate more of my talents,” he adds, diving on her like a bird of prey on a rabbit.

But Rey has other plans.

“No!” she clucks, pushing him away playfully, and gesturing him to lie down. “My turn to have fun.”

She sits across his thighs with a feral grin on her face, and places both her hands on the elastic band of his boxers, waiting for a reaction. She expects him to slap her wrist again, but he lays still, studying her every move with a smirk stuck on his lips. She could melt under the heat of his gaze.

Now that she has his permission, Rey swallows in anticipation. The silky material of his underwear fits so snugly around his erection that there isn’t much left to her imagination. She palms at his manhood through that final barrier of fabric and smiles from ear to ear when it jolts and twitches under her fingers.

“Do you want this?” she asks with the same husky tone he used on her.

“If you want it,” Ben responds, lifting his right hand to caress the smooth skin under her breast nonchalantly and pinch her nipple. “You’re in charge now, princess.”

Rey likes the sound of that.

So many people tried to order her around over the years, looked down on her, or worse, pitied her for being an orphan, unwanted and unloved, moving from foster home to foster home. Sitting atop this hunk of a man is exhilarating. For the first time, she wants her naughtiest dreams to come true.

She slides her open palms slowly along the fabric, reaching the elastic band, and starts pulling down to free the forbidden fruit of her desire. In silent agreement Ben arches high enough to allow her to remove the underwear in one swift movement, to be immediately thrown on the floor, forgotten.

“Oh!” She exclaims, resting her eyes on his bouncing cock. “Where is his little house?”

“Really, Rey? Is that your idea of dirty talk? Are you making fun of my penis?” Ben chuckles.

“What? No!” She replies a little ashamed by her reaction. She could gush about how thick he is, how the dorsal vein runs like an angry river under his delicate skin, how the head looks like a plum glistening with pre-cum, but she must admit that it’s the first time she has seen a penis without the foreskin and she’s a little surprised.

“Europeans!” Ben sighs mockingly. “You won’t find many Americans of my generation with their ‘little house’, as you call it.”

She pouts and tilts her head as she grabs at his length, hoping to lighten the mood. “Is he not getting cold?” She teases.

“What makes you think it’s a ‘he,' maybe it’s a ‘she’ or a ‘they.' Why make assumptions?” Ben asks curtly. “Fuck social constructs!” He adds in a serious voice, to which Rey squints, unsure if he’s still making fun of her or if he's serious all of a sudden.

“Don’t listen to the mean woman,” he then proceeds to declare to his cock, patting it affectionately. “You’re beautiful the way you are.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I vexed… _it_ ,” she whispers, leaning in closer to deposit a kiss on the tip. It’s just a peck, but the way his Adam's apple bobs in his throat at the sight of her lips diving towards his center is the only sign she needed to start working her magic.

This time it seems she has his undivided attention again, their gazes locked, studying each other’s reactions when she opens her mouth and licks her lips in preparation. She knows what men want, what they enjoy, and Ben deserves it all, perhaps a bit more. When she runs the flat of her tongue underneath his cock, along with that prominent vein she finds so sexy, he closes his eyes and gasps.

_“Oh putain.”_

The next thing she knows her lithe body slithers between his legs, her left arm coming to rest high on his thigh, digging in the thin layer of fat above the muscles. The skin here is covered with short, thick hair; it feels like sandpaper under her fingertips, but it’s not as rugged as the dark patch from where his sex emerges.

Without a word or a glance she finally takes the head in her mouth, running the tip of her tongue slowly under the ridge in a delicate, playful manner. His pubic hair smells of shower gel mixed with masculine scent, and for a split second, she wonders if she’s not going to orgasm again, just from hearing him moan.

There’s something intoxicating in the way his body reacts to each stroke, his cock twitching under her fingers and tongue. He’s so large she isn’t sure she can swallow him whole, but she’s eager to try, to make him squirm and beg for release. She frees his cock, her hand moving to his navel instead, and slowly engulfs him, testing how far her lips can stretch around his length. It must be what he was waiting for, because an animalistic grunt escapes from the back of his throat, making her slit quiver with need. He’s her creature tonight, her willing plaything, her test subject.

It doesn’t take long before she imposes the rhythm: tantalizing at first, languid almost, licking from the base to the tip, swirling her tongue around the head like a Popsicle, leaving him panting and wanting more. She grows more confident, rocking her lips up and down his quivering flesh, sucking avidly and scratching at his belly with her nails, then accelerates the tempo to a crescendo, making him see stars behind his shut eyelids. The power she holds over him in this instant feeds the beast that lives in the pit of her stomach, and she readies herself, excited about the idea of tasting his seed.

“Fuck,” he manages to articulate between guttural sounds of pleasure, cupping her jaw with both hands to make her stop, before it’s too late. Perhaps it’s just her imagination, but she’s pretty confident she can hear a ‘pop’ sound when he slides off her lips. There’s as much confusion as disappointment in her eyes when she looks up, searching for his face.

“I won’t last long if you continue like that, Rey. I need to know. Do you want to fuck?” he asks, breathlessly.

How can his voice make her so weak and needy?

“Yes,” she replies, her eyes boring into his.

“Okay,” he inhales sharply, jumping out of bed.

Rey sits back up on her knees, following his every move as he’s trying to remember where he left his wallet. “Ha ha!” he exclaims triumphantly when he finally finds it lying on top of a pile of books he moved earlier.

“I usually never carry those,” he explains, taking a condom out, “but for once I’m glad Phasma is always shoving one or two in my pockets when I’m not looking. She’s worse than my mother in that respect.”

Rey smiles to herself. When they met earlier, she expected a broody and nonchalant man, a bit rude perhaps, and commanding. Nothing seems so simple with him. There’s another Ben underneath: exuberant, tender, dead sexy.

“What are you smiling at, princess?” He asks, sitting next to her to tear open the aluminum wrapper.

“Nothing. You’re cute,” she says.

“Am I now?” He quips while rolling the thin layer of rubber on his cock. “I don’t want you to think I’m cute, though,” he retorts in a low voice in the shell of her ear. “I want you to tell me how you want to be fucked,” he adds, punctuating his sentence with a series of kisses on her neck.

A shiver traverses her body from head to toe. Is it the shift in his tone or the warmth of his breath on her pulse? All she knows is that she wants him. No, she doesn’t want him -- she needs him.

Rey bites at her lower lips and leans in close to whisper her secret: _“I want you to fuck me like it’s the first and the last time.”_

His lips come crashing eagerly against hers once more. They don’t have to pretend anymore, be shy around each other. “Do you trust me?” he asks combing his fingers through her hair. “Yes.” “Get on all fours then,” he orders.

There’s not one moment of hesitation on her part, no second thought; Rey turns around, her hands and knees resting on the bed, and Ben scrambles behind her, the bed creaking under their combined weight.

His hand flies to her entrance, assessing how wet she is. She knows she’s fully exposed in this position but she doesn’t care, she wants him to see how ready she is, how her clit is engorged and dark with lust and need. Suddenly she can feel the tip of his cock probing against her entrance, and she’s tempted to grind back to take him fully in one go. But she learned her lesson earlier -- _The secret to greatness is time._

“I can’t promise it won’t hurt,” he says. “Let me know if it doesn’t feel good for you,” he adds gently before parting her lips with his fingers and sliding carefully inside her cunt. Rey cannot control the high-pitched gasp escaping her mouth at the intrusion. He’s slow and methodical, and she’s so wet the condom glides effortlessly. But she’s tight, so tight.

“Wait,” she begs. She reckons she’s stretched to the fullest and needs a moment to get used to the sensation of a man inside her. It’s so different from anything else she has experienced before.

“Do you want me to withdraw?” he inquires, concerned.

“No. Are you in fully yet?” She asks.

“Not quite,” he responds, bemused by her reaction.

She continues. “How does it feel for you?”

Ben sounds surprised at her line of questioning, but Rey always loved to understand how things work, leading her to study to become an engineer. “Tell me. I want to know,” she pleads.

“I don’t know how to describe it. Good? Tight. Wet. Warm.”

“You’re a writer. I’m sure you can come up with something better than that,” she taunts him, pushing against his cock to encourage him to slide further inside.

Instead, he grabs at her sides and thrust in earnest, making her cry out in surprise, but also of pleasure. “Now, I’m in,” he gloats. Suddenly she doesn’t care so much about putting words to their sensations. “Do that again,” she instructs in a low voice.

With each thrust it becomes easier for her to take him in fully, to concentrate on the pleasure rather than the discomfort. In no time, she starts undulating under his large body, the small of her back arching every time he’s tossing inside her with a wet slap. He doesn’t need her to say it out loud anymore now that their moans are mixing, growing louder in unison, their minds turned to the same objective; she wants him, she accepts him the way he is. In return, he adores her; body and soul.

He runs his knuckles on her back, from her ass to the nape of her neck, and she bows under the pleasure, raising her ass like a cat.

She can picture the scene in all its obscenity: her small frame pounded by a massive, grunting man who was a stranger a few hours earlier, her erect nipples brushing against the sheets as she spreads her legs further apart to welcome him deeper, shameless and greedy; happy to give as much as she receives.

“I’m getting close,” Ben suddenly moans, trying to keep control as much as he can. “Me too,” Rey replies in kind, and before she knows it, she’s lying on her back, with Ben facing her. “I want to see you come,” he rasps, thrusting back inside her with his thumb on her clit. His gaze is full of lust but also something else. Tenderness? Care? It’s the last straw for Rey, who bites into his shoulder as she climaxes, her inner walls trapping his cock, causing him to come in hot wild spurts inside the rubber skin. They both collapse on the bed, out of breath and covered in sweat, unable to think of anything to say or joke about.

After a minute or two that seems to last forever, Ben slips off Rey to remove the condom, making sure not to spill on the sheets before tying it shut with a knot. When he disappears into the bathroom, she’s still sprawled on the bed, her center throbbing both from the intrusion of his sex and the remnant of her climax. “You should go clean yourself,” he whispers in her ear when he comes back, but all she wants to do is to latch at his neck and drift away nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

When she opens her eyes in the morning, the sun is high in the sky already. Ben is nowhere to be seen, but he couldn’t have run away in the night since they’re at his place, so she only gets up, and locks herself in the bathroom. She expects her vagina to be sore, but it doesn’t really hurt, and she can’t say she feels any different, except that she’s sticky. She jumps in the shower, hoping Ben is coming back soon.

When she emerges, she notices a pile of T-shirts in a corner. She grabs one at random and put it on. Unsurprisingly, it’s black and large enough to look like a dress on her. On the front, there is a picture of a sphinx and the name of a band she’s never heard of. Melechesh? Meletresh? The fancy font is difficult to decipher. It doesn’t really matter because suddenly there is the rattle of keys in the keyhole, and she can’t help a rush of panic from seizing her heart. Today is another day, what if he wants her out, now that she’s awake? Maybe he even expected her to be gone already?

“Hi!” She waves shyly to the man who stopped at the door, studying her wearing his clothes. He’s holding a white paper bag rolled up in the corners that say ‘Boulangerie pâtisserie.'

Perhaps he’s not responding because he’s angry she stole his shirt?

“You’re so fucking real, Rey,” he finally lets escape before tossing the bag on the bed and closing down the distance between them to hold onto her like she’s the most precious treasure in the world. “I was afraid you would be gone before I came back,” he whispers. “The nearest bakery is on holiday, I had to run three streets away to find a decent one, and it was packed. I hope you’re hungry. I didn’t know what you like so I bought two _croissants_ , two _pains au chocolat_ and some _chouquettes_.”

Rey can’t contain her joy as she holds him tight. “No worries Ben, I’m starving.”

 

_La fin (or is it?)_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is by far the most explicit thing I have ever written, but I hope you enjoyed reading it. Please drop me a line to let me know what you liked and what I could have done better. I'm slowly learning how to smut and romance and would love to hear your feedback!

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU TO MY AMAZING BETA READERS: KURESOTO, POLITICALMAMADUCK AND REYLOPORN!


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